I sat cross-legged with soft blankets under me as I looked up at the pictures of teen heartthrobs on my wall. This was my secret place where I flipped through teen magazines to get ideas for clothes and makeup, all the while admiring the beautiful supermodels on their pages. I wasn't just wishing I could look like them: I was also wondering why none of them looked like me. This thought crept through my mind over the years, every time I watched a movie, TV show, commercial, or looked through a magazine. I'm an Indian woman with a disability and I never saw myself represented in the media.

One lingerie brand changed that for me. Years later, when I was sitting at my desk at NBC and researching brands to feature, one particular story caught my eye. It was the official launch of Aerie, an inclusive lingerie brand. I imagined myself modeling for them — Aerie happens to be my last name so it seemed perfect — but I'd never seen a lingerie model with a disability before. If I could pull this off, I thought, it'd be my chance to increase visibility for disabled people in the intimates market, my chance to prove that disabled people are just as beautiful, attractive, and desirable as anyone else.

Little did I know that my wish would come true but not without a few setbacks. Upon graduating college, I would be faced with countless rejections. I sent out my demo reel to several TV stations and submitted my headshot to various talent agencies only to be told No. The process was disheartening, but I persisted because I knew there needed to be a change. I didn’t want future generations of children to feel the way I felt, wondering why they never saw anyone that looked like them.

After much persistence, I finally got signed to a modeling agency and it led to me reaching another goal: I landed an Aerie campaign. I was obviously thrilled when I received the email that I'd been selected for their lingerie ad, but it was also a bit nerve-wracking. I'd be in a huge campaign in my bra and underwear, with my surgery scars, stretch marks and disability completely visible; was I ready to be so exposed and vulnerable in front of the world? That answer was yes. I thought of the little Indian girl with polio, searching in vain through magazines for someone that looked like her, and I pushed through. This was exactly the change I wanted to see so long ago, a fashion campaign that humanized people with disabilities. I wouldn't let nerves stop me.

On set, the team went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. During fittings, they showered the models with positive affirmations about our looks which made us feel confident and at ease. I didn't fixate on my insecurities or the fact that I was modeling lingerie in a room full of people. Their encouragement set the mood for the whole day. And more than that, it made me feel strong, beautiful, and comfortable in my own skin.

But that day on set can't compare to the joy I've felt from the response to the ad campaign, which quickly went viral. My heart is so full from the outpouring of messages and comments I've received from people thanking me for being a role model and a representative for an underserved community. Fans of the campaign hope that Aerie will continue to include a diverse range of models in their ads — but also, that other brands in the lingerie space will follow their lead. I couldn't agree more.

Brands have the power to shatter stereotypes that have been detrimental to people with disabilities: stereotypes that say we are weak, broken, or in need of fixing. Those damaging myths must be unlearned, but all too often they're perpetuated by brands who won't cast us in runway shows or in ad campaigns.

Aerie is one lingerie brand on the right side of history. By including people with disabilities in ad campaigns and offering adaptive clothing, they're rejecting elitist beauty standards and dismantling stigmas that have plagued us for so long. Exclusionary branding no longer pays off: people wants to feel valued, empowered, and represented by the brands they support. I've understood the power of representation since I was a teen flipping through fashion magazines; when will clothing brands finally learn and follow suit?